Headphones Will Deliver
by HugAZombie
Summary: Collection of one-shots inspired by songs. UNBETA'd. 02: 'Who Knew' by P!nk. 'When it comes to those closest to you, you are blindest.'
1. All These Lives

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__A collection of one-shots, some AU, some not, mostly Merthur (present, past, implied, and pre) and ALL inspired by songs. There is no set number to these – I'll put it as complete anyway, simply because I find it neater that way. It'll annoy me otherwise aha. I'm weird like that. So IT IS NOT FINISHED, but is labelled as such._

_The title of this comes from 'Homesick at Spacecamp' by Fallout Boy: "Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say." _

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><p><strong>Song and Artist: <strong>_'All these lives' Chris Daughtry_**  
>Inspiring Lyrics: <strong>_"You're not a person, you're a disease. All these lives that you've been taking, can't you see my heart is breaking."_**  
>Universe: <strong> _Merlinverse future!fic_**  
>PairingsCharacters:** _Implied past Arthur/Merlin, mentioned Arthur/Gwen_**  
>Summary: <strong>_'Sometimes even destiny is mistaken.'_**  
>Genres: <strong>_Angst/fantasy_**  
><strong>

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><p>He never thought he would be reduced to this, running from the one man he had held his faith in. The dragon had spoken of greatness. Greatness? What greatness? Pretty lies from a creature that is nothing more than a winged serpent, no more or less a slithering liar, a seducer – he took flight to the Far Lands long ago when he was shown that even his precious Destiny is not infallible.<p>

He is pathetic. It slices through his heart with a ruby blade. A jaded heart beating poison and hate. Betrayal tastes bitter on his tongue, a liquor too strong and thick and yet he welcomes it.

He is broken. Arthur broke him. He had expected too much from him. _And it broke him._

He looked to Arthur and he had once seen a King to be proud of – a king he would have been happy to serve until death took him under his wing. A king who would lead the world from beneath the haze of fear Uther and other careless kings had cast upon it, and into a brighter place. United, then, they would have stood – a world stronger, healthier and freer than any man has ever known.

He had looked to Arthur and he had seen a friend – they had shared their banter and their laughs. He saw a man who would talk of boundaries and right and wrong, and yet would refuse to let something as simple as rank or position to hinder a friendship that had been, admittedly, unwanted to begin with. He saw a man with loyalty, a man who would let no other person suffer, friend or stranger. Someone who would face impossible odds to rescue maids and fellow nobles alike.

He had looked to Arthur and, one broken heart ago, he had seen a lover. He had seen a beauty so unlike any other – the beauty only true royalty could possess. He saw bravery and stupidity in the face of enemies and determination and courage. He saw kindness and gentleness and affection, hidden within the depths of cool blue eyes. He saw secrets smiles; felt hidden caresses and found a happiness he never expected upon his arrival at Camelot.

But now that king, that friend, that lover, and signed his death warrant with the same hands that had once held him.

It was all gone. In a blink of an eye, a destiny so revered by all had been whipped away like a flame in the wind.

Arthur now lies with Gwen, his newly appointed queen and continues his fathers' prejudice.

And Merlin flees, once a faithful servant Arthur had lied and fought to save upon many a false claim, only just avoiding the pyre of loathing and shattered trust.

He had been told once that Arthur would bring the world together and protect all people, magical and not.

He had once believed such a pretty lie, held it close to his heart as he done all he possibly could to protect that butterfly of hope.

Never again, Merlin vows as he takes one last look at Camelot, never again will he be so naive. Closing his heart to the world, he promises himself that destiny will fool him no more.

Whatever awaits him now is of his own making and his own making alone.

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><p><em>Hmm... might actually take this idea and make it into a multi-chaptered fic, maybe edit it a bit... hmmm (tell me what you think :]).Meh, for now it's a one shot. :] Hope you enjoyed it. <em>


	2. Who Knew

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Here's another one :] Those who read Skin Deep – it WILL be out soon. It was meant to be out today, but I reread it and hated it. So I'm rewriting aha. _

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><p><strong>Song and Artist: <strong>_'Who Knew' Pink_**  
>Inspiring Lyrics:<strong> _The whole song, but in particular; "__And that last kiss I'll cherish, until we meet again, and time makes it harder, I wish I could remember/ But I keep your memory, you visit me in my sleep, my darling, who knew?__"_**  
>Universe: <strong> _AU_**  
>PairingsCharacters:** _Implied past Arthur/Merlin_**  
>Summary: <strong>_'When it comes to those closest to you, you are blindest.'_**  
>Genres: <strong>_Angst/tragedy  
><em>**Warnings: **_Implied drug use/OD, character death_**  
><strong>

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><p>He shouldn't be here, wasting his days in front of a stone and yet he can't help himself. He lures him here with the siren calls of melancholy and memories that he cannot bring himself to shun. How could be resist the lullaby whispering through the trees, resonating through his soul like a violin or harp, or other haunting string instrument.<p>

He never knew something like this would happen. Years have passed now, the stone still as perfect as the day it was erected. Smooth black, beautiful in all its darkness. He had chosen it, when his family had been too broken, he had picked up the slack – he had been the strength they needed, the strength _he_ had needed days too late.

It suited him well, the polished black marble. Beautiful, smooth and yet black as sin, shadowed. He was dark, darker then could ever have been guessed. He was blind, stupidly blind to the shadows haunting those eyes.

He had known him the best, he was the closest. Since childhood they had played together and shared secrets, they caused havoc and hell and everything in-between. They grew together inseparable, souls entwined and soon their bodies followed.

They were made for each other – but being made for each other means nothing. He still couldn't read into his thoughts, he couldn't see the true depth of his brokenness and he had never even had the chance to fix him.

He knew, when he started spending large amounts of time with the wrong group of people – people he doesn't trust and blames even now, years after death. They were strange, cold people, they dragged him away from the blinding white purity that had once shrouded him and pulled him down into their heated, repugnant world of sordidness and decadence where not even his lovers' voice could reach him anymore.

When he had been found, he had believed it to be a cruel joke – an April Fools' months late. But it hadn't.

Cocaine overdose, they had said – assumed accidental.

The numbness from that day prevails even now as he kneels here, flowers in hand. His words are tripping and stumbling over his lips, whispered sentiments not even he can truly understand in their fumbling rush.

Silence rules as it always would. Never again will he hear that laugh, feel those lips, stroke that skin.

He begs for blame.

He begs for forgiveness.

He begs for answers.

He begs for anything and everything.

He leans his head forward, resting it against the cool marble stone – oftentimes, these days he will come here to think. Just to sit quietly and bask in the faint stirring he can feel here of his loss. He if someone had told him this would have happened years ago, he would've laughed.

He sighs, pressing his lips to the coldness for but a second before standing. His memories and dreams are all he has left now, pictures and faint whispered words. His life has not stopped, he knows, but still, he will pause and remember and he always will.

"Until we meet again," he says softly in the falling dark, "the memories will be enough." His fingers brush the photo embedded in the stone, stroking down a familiar jaw line and smiling absently at the happier times before he turns and leaves, melting into the shadows until the siren call beckons him once more.

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><p><em>Who's who? I know who I wrote as whom, but I decided to leave it up to you the reader to decide who is who. Why is it this has also inspired story idea (but without the Character death, obv), but I'll doubt I'll write this. I don't know enough about drug addiction and recovery to make it convincing, so unlike the other one before, this probably will just stay as a one shot. <em>

_This came to me when I was doing the washing up and drying up and Viva music channel was doing Pink Top 20. I love that woman and this song is one of my absolute favourites. Hope you enjoyed it. _


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